


legs like a newborn foal, and a thundering heart to match

by emrys (livingshitpost)



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Altered Mental States, Angst, Canon Dialogue, Confusing, Confusion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mental Instability, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Time Skips, i mean . probably, it might get changed in th final ep djbdjd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 09:34:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys
Summary: echo wakes up from a nightmare.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	legs like a newborn foal, and a thundering heart to match

White.

His ears are ringing.

Cold metal hands on his body.

Sharp pain at his knees and right elbow. Across his chest. All the way down his spine.

“Get to the shuttle,” he murmurs. “Go, go.”

Rough grip after rough grip. Harsh straps pinning him down.

A scream erupts from his throat as something is drilled into the side of his skull. It’s already hoarse, somehow. He keeps screaming.

“No,” he pants. “Lemme go first.”

He’s sealed away in silence.

Electricity buzzes throughout him. His brain rattles in his skull.

It’s so cold.

“Go on.” Fives doesn’t move. “Go, vod. Go.”

Fives doesn’t move.

His head is throbbing. His heart is aching.

Electricity jolts down his spine and sets his tailbone on fire.

_“ECHO!”_

“Fives.”

Fives doesn’t move.

Everything blends together in the endless white. Standard rotations, standard cycles — it doesn’t matter. It feels like lifetimes.

His hands shake. Blasters fire just beside his head. There’s an explosion that cuts out suddenly and replaces everything with ringing, ringing. He feels like he might vomit.

Fives doesn’t move.

_Fives doesn’t move._

What’s streaming down his face? Water? Tears? Sweat? Blood? It drips from his nose and chin.

“Get outta here. Go.”

The endless white returns. The pain in his skull continues. The moments where it stops start to feel like death. Perhaps that would be better.

Anything would be better than this.

Rough hands on his body. He can’t move. He’s so tired.

He faintly registers a brother’s voice.

“We’ll have to get to the shuttle to escape the citadel.”

Rough hands on his body. The white starts to fade.

“No! I’ll go first.”

“Echo.”

Rough hands on his body. . . . No; not rough. Gloved, but not rough. The hands of a brother.

“Echo! It’s Rex. I’m here.”

“No, no.”

The white fades. A brother is staring at him. Wide worried eyes and bleach-blond hair buzzed down to his scalp.

“Rex?”

He’s tired. He’s weak. He couldn’t stand if he tried.

“You came back for me.”

His throat hurts. His voice is a soft rasp. It scratches the back of his throat.

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

“What . . . What happened? Where am I?”

The Citadel. Where’s the Citadel? Where’s the Shuttle? Where are Generals Skywalker and Kenobi and Fives and—

“It’s okay, Echo. You’re safe now.” Rex pulls him back from himself. From the blaster fire and the explosion and the shrapnel cutting through his armor and his blacks. “Just sit tight, trooper.” He smiles. “You’re going home.”

_Home_. Home with his brothers. With companionship and camaraderie and claps on the back. With understanding and unspoken bonds. With so many seemly insignificant things that all added up to brotherhood, and the love that came with it.

Home with Fives.

(There’s a bitter taste in his mouth.)


End file.
